


Drift

by VolxdoSioda



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, can be read as preslash if you squint, sequel to Bones but can be read as a standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Sam comes down off the mountain.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges & Heartman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	Drift

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Дрейф](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775317) by [Riru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riru/pseuds/Riru), [StealthGames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthGames/pseuds/StealthGames)

There's someone at his door. That's what the system tells Heartman, as he sits up from his most recent visit to the Beach. He wipes the tears off his face, hastily cleans his glasses, and hurries outside, to see who it is. 

It's Sam. Covered in snow and ice, teeth chattering, one knee to the ground as he fights to get up. The bundle on his back is small, but it's clear the man is exhausted. 

"Sam? Oh god, Sam?" 

"S-sorry to bh--harge in," Sam breathes, and Heartman doesn't even _think, _he just does. Shoves himself up against Sam's side, gets the man's arm around his neck, helps him to his feet. "Fuckin' whiteouts. God. Hate 'em. So much."

"I don't doubt it. Come on. Couch." He can hear the BB fussing, now that he listens, and he can only imagine the case must be freezing, if Sam is this coated. From the look of the heaters strapped to his thighs and shoulders, they got caught in a bad Timefall storm. Even a man like Sam has his limits. And given how his head is bobbing up and down, eyes fluttering shut only to jerk open again, it's clear he's hit them. 

"Can you get the cargo off? And those clothes?" He doesn't wait for an answer, sitting Sam down and hastily kneeling to undo the boots - torn to shreds, now that he sees them, only the thinnest possible layer of sole left. Gods almighty, this man has run himself _ragged. _The socks go next, and Sam is wiggling out of the pants, his cargo backpack already undone. The shirt is harder, given how frozen it is, but they manage, and Heartman rushes to his room, grabbing two of the thermal blankets he keeps around and hurrying back, wrapping them around man and BB, who Sam is currently rocking, albeit a bit sluggishly. 

"C'mon Sam, back you go." He pulls pillows close, packs the blankets in tight, and then turns the room heaters on for good measure. He'll roast, but it's a small price to pay to get Sam from expiring. 

"Thanks," Sam whispers. "Hey, one last thing? Can you get this hair tie out?"

Heartman carefully does so, ensuring not to touch Sam's scalp. For a moment, the hair stays trapped in the shape, but as Sam leans back into the pillows, utterly drained, it resumes its natural shape around his face. Sam curls his arm around the BB container, closes his eyes, and falls dead asleep. 

Heartman doubts dimming the lights matters, but he hears _"one minute until cardiac arrest" _behind him, and does it anyway. Settles back against his chair with eyes on Sam - for once not thinking of the Beach or his family - and stays that way until his heart stops. 

Thankfully, Sam isn't there when Heartman goes. And he doesn't appear over the next day and a half, only continuing to occupy Heartman's couch and sleep away. Not even his BB stirs.

Heartman can only imagine how deep into the mountains he must have been - or how long it's been since he's been able to catch actual rest in a private room. The last time he saw Sam, Sam had visited his Beach, albeit briefly, to help him look for his wife and child. Die-Hardman is a ruthless boss, but especially so now, given how close they are to securing Amelie. It's not a terrible thought, that he would push and push and push more orders on Sam, until either Sam gave or the orders did. 

And given how near-legendary Sam's become, it's far likelier Sam would give out first. 

Watching Sam breathe beneath the weight of two blankets, he looks peaceful. Tired, but peaceful. Now that Heartman's actually looking at him, he realizes Sam's nose is crooked. Bumped in the middle, like it's been broken before. And that he has small white scars dotting his face - perhaps from the shrapnel during the war-zone visits? Little details he's never seen before, or at least never registered on a conscious level. Probably because Heartman's entire life has revolved around his own loss, his own suffering. 

With Sam strangely vulnerable on his couch though, it's hard to think of anything other than that. Sam. A man who kept going even after his life was destroyed that first time. Heartman's read the files and heard the stories. He knows who Sam is. Sam himself confirmed it. 

There's been a little voice, a thin whisper in the back of Heartman's mind that's only gotten louder since Sam came into his lab. A voice that says _maybe you should move on. They would want you to be happy, to live life in their stead. __To find happiness where you can. _

For the longest time, Heartman dismissed it. Refused to acknowledge it. Move on? After what happened? Impossible. Inconceivable. No, he would find his family, and die with them, because he refuses to die alone. Because he _wants _to die with them, and no one else.

But he met Sam on that Beach. Lonely, cold, a stretch of black sand and dark waters filled with the bones and memories of those already gone before them. And Sam had helped him search those dark waters, even as his own body had rested a million miles away, somewhere else. Had refused to let Heartman be alone, suffering, by himself.

_No man is an island, _goes the saying. Heartman never believed it, but it's only seemed to have gotten more ridiculous since Sam joined onto their cause. Because Sam has been connecting people, and now Heartman thinks he sees how. How Sam can do the impossible.

Because Sam doesn't let grief stop him. Doesn't let it dictate his life. He puts one foot in front of the other, and keeps going. Climbs over mountains, through whiteouts and BTs, blind or not, to get people connected. To help them learn to live again. 

Heartman thinks maybe that's what the BB is doing for Sam, too. What Lou is helping Sam remember to do - to live. And so Sam passes that on to others, and like an infection, it spreads. 

Now Heartman finds himself wondering if maybe he _should _move on. If maybe, just maybe, that's possible. If he can live, and enjoy living, and that would be okay. 

He doesn't have all the answers, not yet, but with Sam's help, he just might one day.


End file.
